


Caveat Emptor

by elliemars



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Bachelor Auction, M/M, Master/Slave, kind of not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliemars/pseuds/elliemars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seifer walks into Balamb Garden's First Annual Charity Ball with the intention of creating havoc, and walks out with a very unexpected prize instead - his very own slave for a week.  Shenanigans ensue.  From a prompt by skittles4zell like... forever ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caveat Emptor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skittles4zell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittles4zell/gifts).



> fair warning - this fic is still not finished, and chapters 2 through 5 are going to get some revision before I post them, which in any case isn't going to be before I've finished at least one of my other two ongoing fics. so, please, don't hold your breath on the next update being soon. I'm just posting this first chapter maybe in the hopes that some positive response will motivate me to finish it sometime this eon...
> 
> This was written in response to a prompt on LJ by skittles4zell that went along the lines of "Seifer buys Zell at a bachelor auction and porny shenanigans ensue." I then ran with the excuse to write Seifer being a Rich Bastard™ of course; this fic is decidedly more silly and lighthearted than RTRT so don't take it too seriously. (and please pretend not to notice that I BS my way through anything that has to do with money because I really have no idea what being rich actually entails.)

_You are cordially invited_  
_to_  
_Balamb Garden’s First Annual_  
_Charity Ball and Auction_  
_on_  
_Saturday, July 20th at 7 p.m._

_kindly RSVP to Selphie Tilmitt at BGU_

 

Seifer stared at the card in his hand for a few moments without completely comprehending what he was reading. The thing was revoltingly glitzy, bright pink with silver gilt edges; it had Selphie’s personality all over it, even if it didn’t have her name printed right on it.

Firstly, why would anyone from Balamb Garden be sending him anything? And secondly, why would they think he’d care at all about - what was it? - their first annual charity auction? He contemplated tossing the invitation in the bin, but on reflection, he set it down on the kitchen counter with the rest of his mail.

He wasn’t in contact with anyone from Balamb Garden; in fact, he hadn’t heard from any of them in something close to a year - at least not since he had moved to Esthar, a good eight months ago. Nor did he have any real desire to hear from any of them; he had assumed the feeling was mutual, and the last eight months had been spent happily in radio silence. So what in the world would make Selphie Tilmitt, of all people, send him, of all people, an invite to her special ball?

The answer was easy: Seifer had money. The settlement with the Estharian government, in which Seifer had agreed to not spill any of the numerous deep dark secrets he’d learned during his brief stint as commander of both Estharian and Galbadian armies in exchange for asylum, had ensured that he had plenty of cash to burn for years to come - assuming neither Galbadia nor Esthar managed to assassinate or otherwise silence him before he grew to a ripe old age. Selphie and the rest of the twits at Garden fully well knew he was loaded, because he’d gloated enough about it before taking off for Esthar - in retrospect, probably not the coolest thing he could have done, but at the time he was so happy to have gotten away from the various governments of the world with what amounted to a clean slate that he felt he deserved a little bit of preening. Still, Garden must really be hurting for cash if they were inviting _him_ to their charity ball. He couldn’t think of a single person at Garden who would give him the time of day if he passed them on the street - a kick in the ass, maybe…

There could be some fun in showing up, even if just to fuck with Quistis and Squall or whoever was running the show there nowadays. What else did he have to do on a Saturday night, anyway, besides what he did every week - sit at home and think about what a bore his life had become? In fact, it would be a nice change of pace to head to Balamb for a weekend, and the satisfaction of crashing Selphie’s party was a bonus.

Anything to break the monotony, he supposed.

If he was feeling nice, he might even spend some money and help Garden out. That was pretty much all he was good at these days anyway - spending money, that is, not being nice.

It would piss Selphie off no end if he actually showed up, and that was reason enough to go. Seifer grinned to himself. Already things were looking brighter.

 

Sure enough, Selphie’s expression was reward enough for the long trip from Esthar to Balamb. “Ugh!” she cried, looking like she’d just been forced to swallow grat slime. “What are you doing here?”

“You invited me,” Seifer replied, reaching in his jacket to pull out the invitation. Selphie snatched it out of his hand.

“I didn’t think you’d really have the balls to come here!”

“I did RSVP,” Seifer said, putting on his most charming smile. Selphie took his invitation in her gloved hands and began to tear it into pieces.

“You’re not wanted here, you big-“

“Selphie,” Quistis suddenly intervened, swooping in between her and Seifer and cutting the other girl off. She took Seifer’s arm. “I’ll handle this. Seifer, with me?”

He let Quistis lead him away, relishing in Selphie’s expression of frustration as she flung the pieces of what had been his invitation onto the ground. Yes, definitely worth it.

“I’m really surprised you came,” Quistis told him, leading him into Garden’s ballroom, which had been decorated to match Selphie’s pink and silver theme. Already there was a crowd of people there, some finding their place at the tables that filled the outside of the room, some mingling in the open dance floor at the center. Seifer gave Quistis an innocent look.

“Why? If she didn’t want me here, she shouldn’t have sent me an invite-“

“She didn’t,” Quistis interrupted, “I did. I guess it was too much to hope you’d attempt to be civil and not go antagonizing Selphie-“

“I didn’t _antagonize_ her. All I did was say hello.”

“The truth is, Seifer, you’re _not_ wanted here,” Quistis went on, ignoring him. She released his arm and turned to face him, looking very stern, despite her long, loose hair and soft pink dress. “You certainly don’t have any friends here tonight. So try and behave, won’t you? I’d hate to have to do something as uncouth as throw you out.”

“You make it sound like I came here to cause trouble,” Seifer said, affecting a wounded attitude. Quistis gave him a very skeptical look; she wasn’t going to buy anything he said tonight. “Relax,” he said, but she continued to glare. “I’ll behave myself. I only came here to spend some money… you guys must be pretty hard up for cash if you’ve been lowered to inviting me to your charity, after all.”

“Tsk,” Quistis said, as Seifer smiled at her. “Enrollment was… not high this year. This auction was all Selphie and Irvine’s idea, though. But that’s not why I invited you.”

“Don’t tell me you missed me, instructor. You’ll break my poor heart.” 

  
Quistis gave him a probing, thoughtful look. “I thought maybe _you_ missed _this_ ,” she answered, flashing a little smirk at him. Then she turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone by the seating chart, before he could muster up a snarky enough reply.

Problem was, she was right.

He missed Garden… a little. The feeling of normalcy, of fitting in somewhere. Not that he’d admit that to anyone, ever - he didn’t even like to admit it to himself. Besides, Garden would never take him back, and no one at Garden was likely to ever forgive him, so it was a moot point.

He found his seat at a half-empty table, and stayed there for a good portion of the night, watching people go by - most of whom were determined not to look at him, go near him, or in any way acknowledge his presence. Dancing was out of the question, if that was even something he wanted. He sat through a bland dinner seated next to Xu, who had clearly been placed there to keep an eye on him and who looked just as unhappy about the arrangement as he was. He found some enjoyment in watching Squall try, and struggle, to make a speech later in the night.

The night overall, however, was not pleasant. It was only marginally more enjoyable than a night spent alone at home due to the fact that his presence there was making a lot of other people unhappy, but it was a small consolation. After a while, as the party was winding down, Quistis came back over and took the seat that had been vacated by Xu at the earliest possible moment. “Are you having fun?” she asked him, flipping her long hair back over her shoulder.

“Is there any part of me that looks like I’m having fun?” Seifer replied.

“The auction is starting soon. You might find that interesting,” she remarked.

“I’m not interested in anything you think I might find interesting.”

“Seifer, I don’t know why you’re so determined to be bitter,” Quistis sniffed, and shook her head. “You’re the one who went swanning off to Esthar, so don’t go acting like we’re the ones who have done you some great wrong. Nobody here’s got any pity for you.”

Seifer gritted his teeth. Swanning off, huh? Was that how she saw it? “So what were my choices, Instructor, hm? Be a prisoner here, in Esthar, or in Galbadia? Forgive me for not having a whole lot of hometown loyalty after Garden pretty much threw me out-“

“You didn’t get it then, and you still don’t get it,” Quistis interrupted him, standing up abruptly and pulling her shawl around her shoulders. She looked offended; Seifer didn’t know what he’d done, but he was pleased anyway. “Why don’t you leave?”

Seifer stood up as well, ignoring the daggers she was glaring at him. “I wouldn’t want to miss the auction,” he said coolly. “You said it would be interesting, right?”

She studied him for a long moment. “Well, on your own head,” she said finally, giving a careless shrug. Seifer didn’t have to ask what she meant by that; it was clear that his continued presence in Garden wasn’t wanted by anyone, himself included. He had given up the habit of picking fights - living on a government leash did that to a person - but it was only a matter of time before someone took real issue with his being there.

He didn’t have to wait long, either. He and Quistis had just left the ballroom and were heading down toward the Quad, where Seifer could see rows of chairs set up in front of the stage, when someone came up on Quistis’ other side. “What’s _he_ doing here?” a snide voice said.

“Nice to see you again too, Dincht,” Seifer said, peering around Quistis to get a look at the other man.

“Tch,” Zell said with a sneer. “Quistis, I need to talk to you about the… the thing. Come with me?” he said, and pulled Quistis away by the arm, but not without shooting a nasty glance back at Seifer over his shoulder.

“Just like old times,” Seifer muttered to himself. This remark didn’t escape Quistis’ notice, and she gave him a quelling look even as she walked away with Zell.

Seifer almost felt at home again. All he needed was for Squall to come hassle him and it really would be like old times.

He loitered around for a while as people filtered in from the ball. Everywhere he turned were familiar faces; Rinoa, in an unnecessarily poofy blue ball gown, scurried past him without looking at him; Selphie, over by the stage, was looking at him as though she thought she could burn him to a crisp with the power of her mind; a little ways away, he could see Xu and that pilot friend of hers conversing in low tones and casting disdainful looks his way in a manner that left no doubt they were talking about him. Quistis had disappeared, but he saw Zell trotting around after a while, chit-chatting with everyone in his usual upbeat manner. Seifer half-hoped Zell would find a reason to come over and pick a fight with him, but all the other man did was scowl at him from afar, and then vanish backstage again.

The little chicken shit had grown up, had he? Seifer felt unexpectedly irritated at this development. He had been fairly certain that Zell, if anyone, would be holding a grudge against him still.

“Hi, everyone! Hey, listen up!” Selphie had ascended the stage and was facing the crowd, wielding a microphone. “We’re gonna start the auction, so go ahead and take a seat! It’s gonna be really fun!” she announced, wiggling her arms with excitement.

“I doubt it,” Seifer muttered to himself, but he stopped himself from saying anything more; Quistis had taken the seat next to him. “Come to keep an eye on me, instructor?” he asked quietly.

“Well, I drew the short straw,” she replied with a smile.

“You can admit it if you missed me, Trepe. I promise I won’t even be mean to you.”

“If you want the truth, Seifer, I feel sorry for you,” was Quistis’ response, and her cool tone startled him a little. “You could have stayed here and everyone - mostly - would have forgiven you. But you’re even more of an asshole than you used to be, so instead everyone is quite happy to hate you.”

“Oh, well, good,” Seifer said, sitting back in his chair, and trying not to be affected by her callousness. “At least the feeling’s mutual.”

The lights went down, and Selphie reappeared on stage, trailing Irvine behind her. “Welcome, everyone, to Balamb Garden’s first charity auction!” she chirped, and the audience applauded. There were a lot of people still there - Seifer wondered what exactly they were expecting from this pageant Selphie was putting on. “We have tons of great stuff, okay? So we’re gonna start with the small stuff and work our way up to the good prizes!”

“Like it’s a bloody game show,” Quistis murmured from next to him. Seifer leaned over toward her a little.

“Do I sense a hint of disapproval, Instructor?”

She pursed her lips, evidently caught between a desire to bitch and a dislike of telling Seifer anything. After a moment or two, the former won out. “I was against this idea,” she admitted, fussing with her shawl. “I think it’s a little ridiculous. But Selphie does pretty much whatever she wants, so there’s no point in fighting. Squall has a soft spot for her or something.”

“You sound a tad jealous,” Seifer teased.

“Go fuck yourself,” she snapped, and focused her attention back on Selphie. Seifer smiled a little; he must have touched a nerve.

The auction was as boring as the party had been; Seifer watched with very mild interest as items were sold off to people with clearly too much money on their hands. He kept up a quiet, sarcastic commentary as things progressed, mostly for Quistis’ benefit, but she was evidently determined not to speak to him again. “This is kind of embarrassing to watch,” he said after a while, watching as Selphie handed off another sold item - one of Quistis’ old whips - to an enthusiastic Trepie for an absurd amount of money. Quistis herself was trying very hard not to make eye contact with anyone.

“I hate to agree with you,” she said, and then sighed. Looking around, Seifer saw that she wasn’t the only one who did; Squall, sitting near the front, was looking extremely uncomfortable with the show on the whole, although it was possible that was his normal expression. Irvine and Selphie, however, were going at it with great energy up on stage, and most of the crowd seemed to be having a good time. “I’m afraid to say it gets worse,” Quistis remarked a few moments later, sighing again.

“That sounds promising,” Seifer replied.

Quistis didn’t say anything, but went back to watching the auction. Seifer tried to do the same, but it was boring the life out of him; he was contemplating leaving when one of the assistants dragged the next item up for bid onto the stage, and it was familiar - a big, shiny, heavy black case; the girl carrying it probably weighed as much as it did, and she was banging it against the floor with every step.

“Hey!” Seifer yelled, getting up out of his seat, and causing a portion of the crowd to look his way. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Seifer, sit down,” Quistis said.

“That’s mine. You can’t sell that,” he growled, walking up to the stage, where Selphie was opening the case to reveal what was inside: a sleek, gleaming gunblade - his gunblade. Selphie gave him a smug look.

“It’s property of Balamb Garden,” she said snottily.

“It’s _my_ property, give it to me,” Seifer snarled, and he was about ready to climb up on stage and take it himself when Quistis grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him back to his seat.

“You’re making a scene,” she said chidingly.

“You can make a bid for it if you like,” Selphie cooed, looking infuriatingly superior as she pawed his gunblade with her little gloved hands.

Quistis was still yanking on his jacket; reluctantly, Seifer returned to his seat, fuming. “Is this what you invited me here for?” he hissed at her. “To make me buy back my own stuff?”

“Like I told you, I didn’t have anything to do with the auction,” Quistis said, managing to look remarkably cool despite the fact that Seifer was spitting venom at her. “Trust me, if I had, it wouldn’t be this… _circus_.”

“Alright, then, this is a very rare item, isn’t it?” Selphie giggled, clearly reveling in Seifer’s frustration. “So, what’ll we start the bidding at? What do you think, Irv? Shall we start at 10,000 gil?”

“Will you be wanting this?” Quistis murmured to him, handing him the little paddle he’d been given at arrival to the auction. Seifer snatched it from her, grinding his teeth. Damn if he would buy his own weapon back from Garden, and at such a ridiculous price - damn if he wouldn’t; he certainly wasn’t going to leave here tonight without it. He’d never imagined Garden would keep it - in fact, he’d been sure it was lost at the end of the war, and he couldn’t think how Garden had ended up with it in the first place.

“Anyone? No bids?” Selphie pouted, shaking her head, while Irvine mimicked her. “Maybe I undersold it? Should we start a bit higher? Oh, we have a bid!”

Selphie was pointing into the crowd - right at Quistis, who had her paddle up in the air. “What are you doing, Trepe?” Seifer snarled, grabbing her hand and wrenching it down.

“Getting the price up,” she replied unabashedly.

“Ten-five, anyone?”

Seifer thrust his paddle into the air, giving Quistis a look that hopefully conveyed his full intention to use the weapon on her if she tried to make another bid. She didn’t, and a moment later, Selphie announced, “alright, then! Sold to that creep,” she punctuated this remark by making a rude gesture in Seifer’s direction, “for 10,500. Thanks, creep.”

“What other shit of mine are you weirdos holding onto?” Seifer growled at Quistis, who was now getting up from her seat, leaving her shawl and her paddle on the chair.

“You should have just left when I told you to,” was her answer, watching the stage - Selphie had moved on to the next item already - with a grim, resigned sort of expression. “But since you’re staying, you might as well see me humiliate myself. I’m up for auction next.”

“You’re what?” Seifer spat, momentarily forgetting his anger.

“We’re having a bachelor auction, a bunch of the instructors and the SeeDs. It’s the most debasing thing I’ve ever done,” Quistis said, and she looked, indeed, really unhappy as she described it. “The winner gets a date with me. So if you’re feeling sadistic, go ahead and make a bid; then you can have a whole night to make me miserable at your leisure.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re afraid one of your fanboys,” Seifer said, jerking his thumb at the group of Trepies sitting nearby who were all still squabbling over the whip, “is going to win the date and try to get handsy with you. Should I be flattered that you’d prefer me to one of them?”

“Don’t be too flattered; you just _barely_ inched in above them,” she said bitterly, and then walked away toward the stage, shoulders slumped.

Seifer was stunned. Maybe this night would turn out to be worth coming after all.

 

His mood improved rapidly after the event got going. Most of the dozen SeeDs Selphie had probably had to bully to get up on that stage looked as displeased with the situation as Quistis did, excepting Irvine, who appeared to be in his element. Seifer had to give Selphie some credit for the arrangement of this whole thing - not least for convincing everyone involved to go along with it - but all the participants were real lookers, and she was pawning them off with reckless enthusiasm, spurred on by the crowd, whose excitement was growing as the auction continued. It appeared that the bachelor auction, which Seifer hadn’t even known about, was the main attraction of the whole night.

Selphie moved right down the line with gusto, evidently working up to the more popular SeeDs - Irvine, Quistis, and Zell were the last three up. Seifer might have thought she was saving the best for last, except that it was Zell at the end of the line; but apparently he was pretty popular, to judge by the excited whispering of a group of women sitting just a little ways from Seifer.

Quistis was trying to catch his eye as the line wound down; Seifer refused to humor her - that must be the real reason she had invited him to this event; in the hopes that he might make a bid to save her from the Trepies… and as he watched the large, tightly-clustered group of Quistis fanboys nearby, who were now bickering over ownership of the couple of her personal items that she’d donated to the auction, he was almost moved by pity to help her out; not quite, but almost. If she hadn’t been so cold to him earlier, maybe, but she’d struck home with a couple of her little jabs, so Seifer was perfectly inclined to consider his revenge complete in the knowledge that no torment he could purposely inflict on her would be as bad as her having to go on a date with one of her fan club members.

“Next up, ladies and gents, we have Miss Quistis Trepe… Instructor Trepe is one of the most popular instructors at Garden; the waiting list for her classes gets longer every year!” Selphie commentated, and the crowd cheered. “Quistis even has her own fan club here at Garden, I think they're all here tonight, as a matter of fact!”

The Trepies hooted and hollered; Seifer could see a tic going in Quistis’ cheek, but she maintained her pasted-on grin.

“Instructor Trepe is the very picture of poise and refinement… but don’t let that elegant demeanor and cool facade trick you; she can be a pretty wild date if you know how to push her buttons!” Selphie crowed.

“Selphie!” Quistis cried.

“You’re bidding on one - that’s exactly _one_ \- date with Instructor Trepe, so let’s begin! We’ll start at 1500 gil, how does that sound? Does that work for you, Q?”

“As if,” Quistis muttered mutinously, but her reply to Selphie was lost in the noise of the audience as they began bidding.

“Sixteen - seventeen - okay, wait - slow down a bit, will you? I’m not exactly a professional-“ Selphie called out, her head whipping back and forth as she tried to follow the action of a dozen or more paddles all going in the air at once. “We’re up to 2100 - do I hear twenty-two? Oh, there-“

Seifer caught Quistis’ eye for a moment; she gave him a very cold look, to which he only shrugged. The bidding went up and up; the Trepie with the whip appeared determined to outbid all the rest, and it was he who put the final price at 6900 gil, which brought Quistis in as the top-selling date so far that night. She left the stage with an extremely sour look on her face, as though she’d just had a lemon shoved down her throat. Irvine took center stage next.

“You didn’t do _anything_!” she hissed as she walked by Seifer, heading toward the table where Xu was taking down contact information from auction winners.

“I don’t recall promising I’d help you,” he said. Quistis slapped him hard on the arm, and then went on her way, leaving Seifer to feel satisfied that he’d done his duty in pissing her off quite thoroughly tonight.

Irvine was the next to sell himself off, and he flirted and winked his way up to 6000 gil, not quite beating Quistis out for the top spot; he didn’t seem much bothered about it, however, as he left the stage to introduce himself to a very pretty blonde in a slinky satin dress who was fishing a checkbook out of her handbag.

Next, and last, was Zell, and he at least seemed to be taking the situation good-naturedly - he wasn’t clearly in his element, the way Irvine was, but neither did he look half as miserable as Quistis and some of the other SeeDs, whom Seifer assumed Selphie had probably had to bully or blackmail to participate in this exhibition. Zell was greeted with applause and some cheering from the women in the audience; one of them, a very short, very pretty redhead gave him a little wave, and he grinned.

“Last, but quite certainly not least, we have SeeD Dincht!” Selphie announced. “Like I even need to introduce him! Everybody knows Zell! He’s the cutest and sweetest and definitely the nicest guy at Garden-“

Seifer snorted, but no one took any notice. Zell had gone a bit pink. “Stop introducing me like I’m everyone’s big brother!” he muttered to Selphie.

“So, for one date with Zell, let’s start the bidding at… 500!”

“500? You started Quistis at 1500!”

“Well, we all agreed that you’d probably be a cheaper date,” Selphie told him.

Whatever Zell’s indignant response to that was was lost in the greater noise of the crowd as people began bidding. Seifer watched as the numbers went up with only a bare minimum of interest; the group of women nearby him were not as overly enthusiastic as Quistis’ fanclub had been, but no less determined to win a date with Zell. Seifer kept his eyes on the redhead for a while; she was coolly maintaining the highest bid.

Quistis had come back to her seat, still casting angry glares in Seifer’s direction but evidently more willing to put up with him than with the Trepie who had won her date, who was still collecting some of his prizes from Xu. “Chicken-wuss is pretty popular, isn’t he?” Seifer remarked as the bidding went past 5000. Quistis, arranging her shawl over her shoulders, gave him a patronizing smile.

“Everybody loves Zell,” she explained, as if Seifer didn’t know; it had been the same during their school days - Zell managed to get along with nearly everyone without effort. He and Seifer had never quite seen eye-to-eye, but that was probably mainly because he was so easy to ruffle and Seifer could never resist an easy target. “He’s just been through a breakup, though, so I think a lot of the girls are hoping this is their chance,” Quistis added, shrugging carelessly.

Seifer watched the other man up on stage for a moment, starting to feel irritated. Zell didn’t look like someone who’d just been through a breakup; he looked smug, like he knew perfectly well that he was popular and the fact that women were competing to pay to date him only proved that. “I find I’m kind of annoyed,” he said to Quistis.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m rich _and_ good-looking, and women don’t look twice at me. Zell looks like a kid playing dress-up in that uniform, and they’re _swooning_ over him.”

“Yes, but you’re an asshole, and Zell is adorable,” Quistis replied offhandedly. Seifer gritted his teeth, but she was right - Zell was cute and lovable in a completely charming sort of way, despite the fact that he could knock your teeth into the back of your skull if you pissed him off. And contrary to anything Seifer would ever admit to saying, he looked _good_ in that SeeD uniform - mature and sort of grown-up, really a far cry from the boy Seifer had known a year or so ago. “Besides,” Quistis said, “it’s for charity. Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“We’re up to 6100! Do I see sixty-two? Anyone? Yes, there-“ Selphie was commentating, pointing to acknowledge the red-haired woman, who had her paddle up again. “Alright, we’re at 6200! I think Zell’s trying to beat you out for the top spot, Quistis!”

Beside Seifer, Quistis gave a quiet snort of contempt. Selphie, meanwhile, was looking around the crowd, still chattering, “6300, anyone? Do I hear sixty-three? No? Come on, let’s keep things exciting, people-“

But she stopped speaking suddenly, and the audience went quiet. She was staring at Seifer, who had his paddle up in the air; slowly, heads began to turn in his direction. “What are you doing?” Quistis hissed in his ear.

“Making a bid,” he answered matter-of-factly, feeling quite smug again with all eyes on him. His move had thrown everybody off; Selphie looked like she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing, and Zell’s satisfied grin had vanished to be replaced with an expression of danger. “Sixty-three,” he said to Selphie, shaking his paddle for emphasis.

“Sixty-four,” the redhead, across the aisle from him, declared, and she turned to give him a long, probing stare. Seifer didn’t look away.

“Sixty-five,” he said.

“Seven thousand.”

“Seven-five,” he countered.

“What the hell d’you think you’re doing?” Zell had made his way down to the end of the stage where Seifer was, and he looked right pissed off, which gave Seifer a keen sense of satisfaction. “Quit it! Quit it right now!”

“I’m just trying to help,” Seifer replied, with a grin that he knew would drive Zell insane. “It’s for charity, after all, right?”

“Eight thousand,” the redhead declared; her expression, scowling a bit now, wasn’t quite as pretty as before. Seifer wondered what she was after; she looked fairly determined not to lose out to him. Of course, she didn’t know the lengths to which he’d go just to be an asshole.

He put his paddle up again, ignoring the sharp elbow Quistis ground into his ribcage. “I can keep going, you know,” he said to the woman, who gave him rather a dirty look. Most of the women nearby her were making similar mild to moderately-threatening expressions. Clearly Seifer had broken some weird chicken-wuss fan club rule by horning in on their private girl fight.

“Wait! Time! I mean, I mean, pause!” Selphie cried, running to the front of the stage with her hands up in the air in a T shape. “Let’s pause for a second! Zell, can I have a word with you?”

She grabbed the blond by the elbow and forcibly dragged him back from the edge of the stage, where from the looks of it he was preparing to launch an attack on Seifer. The two of them and Irvine formed a little circle in the middle of the stage and began having a quiet, tense discussion; Seifer didn’t have to rack his brain to imagine what about. He watched Selphie mouth the words “but we need the money,” and felt a sense of smugness.  Obviously they weren’t going to let him just waltz in and snatch away their golden SeeD - not that Seifer really wanted to anyway; he just wanted to annoy everyone present, and he seemed to have found an excellent way to do it - but they had to be desperate to be considering it. 

“Alright, everyone, we’re changing the game a little bit!” Selphie announced with a grin on her face that Seifer associated with trouble. Zell was looking exceptionally sour, which meant that Selphie had probably bullied him into whatever scheme she had cooked up to combat Seifer’s insistent dickery.

“We’re going to up the ante a little,” Irvine added. “The auction will go on, but the prize is changing! Instead of one date with the lovely Zell, you will be getting _seven dates_ \- that’s a whole week’s worth of quality time for a bargain price! We’ll start the bidding where we left off at eighty-five hundred, how’s that sound?”

The audience started buzzing, but Seifer only wanted to laugh; Zell’s expression strongly suggested he was itching to hit someone, and Seifer was willing to bet he was the first candidate. The redhead across the aisle turned to give him a cold look. “Do you really want to challenge me?” she asked in a low tone.

Seifer gave her his most winsome smile. So she was going to be like that, was she? “To be honest,” he said, leaning across the aisle toward her, “I didn’t, no. But now I think I do.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and then raised her paddle, looking sort of smug and triumphant - if she thought she had him, boy was she going to be in for a surprise. “Ten thousand,” she declared, and the women around her started tittering.

“Twelve thousand,” Seifer returned.

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty,” he said, and then faked a yawn, as if he was getting bored with the proceedings. The red-haired woman looked furious - but not as furious as Zell up on the stage, whose expression suggested he was about to blow his lid. By contrast, both Selphie and Irvine were grinning like they had just won the lottery.

Some of the other women were whispering now, and one of them leaned over to say something to the redhead. Seifer was willing to bet equal amounts that they were pooling their bets for one final bid, probably hoping to shoot way over his price range - obviously none of these people knew who he was.

“Twenty-five thousand,” she said, smiling at him, but Seifer wasn’t rattled. Twenty-five thousand gil wasn’t exactly pocket change - this woman had cash, whoever she was. But so did he, and what’s more, he had the dickish determination to spend such a ridiculous amount of money solely for the purpose of pissing off everyone one here tonight - a good night’s work, if he accomplished it, truthfully.

“Forty thousand,” Seifer declared, ignoring the punch that Quistis gave him on the arm a moment later. The redhead stared at him as though she couldn’t decide if he was crazy or not. Everybody around, in fact, was staring at him; Seifer hadn’t been the center of so much hostile attention in months - probably since his trial. It was somewhat comforting to know that he still possessed the ability to make everybody in a room hate him with very little effort at all.

Nobody spoke for a long few moments; at length, Seifer turned to address Selphie, who was staring at him from up on the stage, slack-jawed. “Are we done here?” he asked, standing up from his seat. “Is anyone else going to make a bid?”

“Uh… sold!” Selphie cried out, before anyone else could speak - and Zell was about to make an explicit refusal to continue participating in this debacle, by the looks of his expression, which was equal parts fury and confusion. “Sold to… Seifer Almasy… geez…”

“What are you…? Selphie, this is insane! You can’t _sell me_ to that fucker!”

“If he’s willing to pay,” Selphie began to say, shrugging, before Zell converged on her; Seifer witnessed Irvine jumping to her rescue, trying to insert himself between the martial artist and her, before Quistis grabbed the ex-knight by the arm hard and steered him away from the scene. She dragged him over to the side of the stage where they were out of view of everyone else, although Seifer could see the red-haired woman storming out of the Quad, surrounded by a cloud of chattering, stricken-looking followers.

“Seifer, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Quistis demanded to know, looking outraged. The expression did nothing for her beauty; Seifer thought she looked like she might start breathing fire at any moment - and knowing Quistis, that was a viable option.

“Just trying to do my part, Instructor. You guys are hard up for money, right—“ he began in a mocking tone, but she cut him off with a sharp slap to the face.

“You’re incredible,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe you. You know Zell is going to _kill_ you, right?”

“Oh, whatever. I can hold my own.”

“Do you know who that woman is, Seifer?” Quistis hissed. “That’s the daughter of the owner of the Balamb Plaza Hotel. She’s been trying to hook up with Zell for weeks—“

“So what, I cost chicken-wuss a date? Boo hoo,” Seifer said sarcastically, stepping away from Quistis and straightening his jacket. “He’ll get over it. You all, however, will never get over the fact that you had to take money from me to get by, and that’s something that I’ll always treasure. Thank you, Instructor, for that,” he finished with a heavy dose of sarcasm, relishing in the frustrated expression on Quistis’ face. Then, before she could make a comeback or give him another slap in the face, he walked away, going back toward the stage, where Selphie and Irvine were waiting.

“Well, this was a lovely evening,” he said dryly, noting that Zell wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the slight chaos that was the breaking-up party - his attendance always seemed to have that effect on gatherings. “Where’s my gunblade?”

“Where’s my check?” Selphie replied, holding out one tiny gloved hand and giving him an impressively no-nonsense look - Seifer would have been amused at how fast a large amount of cash changed her mind about him, but that would mean admitting that there was something about her that he didn’t entirely hate, which was out of the question. Seifer reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his checkbook, and Selphie began to bounce. Irvine, with a disgusted expression, walked away.

“You know how to throw a party, Tilmitt,” Seifer said as she slapped a pen into his hand.

“That’s fifty thousand and five hundred gil.”

He scribbled the amount out, and tore the check from its book, but didn’t hand it to her. “I’ll be having my stuff first, thanks,” he said, holding the slip of paper up out of her reach - which was maybe a little cruel, but as Selphie was practically vibrating with desire to get her hands on that check, he didn’t feel any great need to end her suffering just yet - not after she made him pay back five times what his gunblade was worth just to get the useless thing back.

She stomped her foot, but then she went backstage, and emerged a minute later with the black case in hand, which she practically threw at him. “Here, take your stupid gunblade and give me my check,” she snarled, extending her hand again.

“And where’s my other prize?” Seifer asked, in his smoothest tone of voice.

“What other prize?”

“I paid for seven days of chicken-wuss’ time. I’ll not be leaving without him,” he said nonchalantly, just to be a dick. Selphie stared at him like he was stupid.

“What are you talking about? As if we’re going to let you leave here with Zell. You’d better just leave while you’re ahead,” she said, huffing. At that moment, however, Irvine came back from behind the stage with Zell himself, who, although clearly angry, no longer had that look about him that suggested he was going to separate Seifer’s head from his neck.

“Oh, perfect,” Seifer said. “Do you do curbside delivery as well?”

“I’m gonna bash your face in, Almasy,” Zell snarled, but Seifer, suddenly struck with a new idea, only smiled at him.

“Don’t even think about it, chicken. That’ll be my first command.”

“What?” Zell said, sneering at him. “I don’t take orders from you, asshole.”

“You do starting right now, don’t you? I just paid for seven days of your time. You’re my slave, Dincht,” Seifer remarked, grinning, and feeling nothing but satisfaction at the utterly befuddled expression on all three of the others’ faces.

“What are you-?”

“That’s not what the auction was for,” Selphie said sharply, still making a grab for the check, which Seifer was keeping just out of reach.

“‘A whole week’s worth of quality time’, and I quote,” Seifer said casually, and he could practically hear Zell’s teeth grinding. “That means I own you for the next week, Dincht. And if you even think about hitting me, I can make it _extremely_ unpleasant for you…”

“Fuck you, Almasy,” Zell said; Seifer watched his fingers twitch, and knew that the martial artist was just dying to throw a punch his way. “That’s not what the thing was about and you damn well know it.”

“Well, that’s really too bad,” Seifer said with a shrug, and he folded up the check, making as if to put it back in his pocket. “If that’s not what I’m paying for, then I guess I’ll just keep this.”

“Zell,” Selphie said lowly, turning to look at the blond, who looked right back at her with puzzlement. “You _did_ agree to the auction, you know.”

“I agreed to go on a date with some chick, not to be prostituted off to any old freak who hands you a wad of cash—“

Seifer watched the two of them have a silent but extremely vehement debate through expression, and knew he had already won. The money was obviously a bigger draw to Selphie than poor chicken-wuss’ virtue - not that _that_ was in any danger; no, Seifer just wanted to make him suffer a little, humiliate him, just for fun. He wasn’t going to make Zell be at his beck and call for a whole week; Seifer didn’t think he could handle that, but it didn’t do any harm to let Zell think that was his plan.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Zell said to Selphie, and there was definitely a desperate whine to his tone.

Seifer handed her the check, and she snatched it from him and stuffed it hastily down the front of her dress, where it would undoubtedly be safe even if Seifer had decided he might want it back (and he certainly no longer did.) “Sorry,” she said to Zell, although she didn’t look all that sorry.

“Perfect. Money well spent,” Seifer said, just for the sake of pissing Zell off a bit, but the other man seemed to be a little bit in shock - he wasn’t planting his fists in anyone’s face, though, so that was an improvement. Seifer handed his gunblade case to him, and he took it with sort of tentative movements, as though he wasn’t sure what he was doing. “We’ll be going now. Really, excellent party. I do hope you’ll invite me again next year.”

“You’re a dick, Seifer,” Selphie said coldly.

“Yeah, well. You just sold me precious Zelly’s soul for that check, so I hope it’s worth it,” he cooed back at her, and then he turned away. “Come on, Dincht. And be careful with that; it’s worth a lot.”

He headed out of the party, and to his surprise, no one made any move to stop him - they all just stared with their usual horror and disgust as he strolled out of Garden just as he’d come in, only with the addition of Zell trailing hopelessly behind him.


End file.
